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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


GIFT    OF 


JXAMriX>ycA \Jj^OUL/jJLL. ^.Q^Va/t^.V^^^ 


Class 


SAINT  HELENA 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


TO  REV.  ASA  DALTON,  D.D. 

FRIEND  of  my  youth  when  youth  had  but  begun  ! 
I  knew  thee  ere  our  city  knew  thy  face. 
As  child  would  know,  I  knew  the  man  whose  place 
Was  in  some  larger  world  his  worth  had  won. 

A  man  in  world  of  men,  thy  world  I  see 
Above  the  common  striving.     Let  me  greet, 
In  sage's  world  —  whose  height  is  my  defeat  — 

Thyself,  companioned  by  the  like  of  thee. 

I  make  me  bold  this  tribute  book  to  bring. 
This  overmuch  of  mingled  dross  and  gold. 
To  one  whose  years  are  all  unmixed,  one  old 

In  nothing  that  survives  .their  numbering. 


O  olvuT^A/zl-  wXa/UyyvzJL  -fiM/nCMnnJ::^ 


SAINT  HELENA  AND 
OTHER  POEMS 


EDWARD  CLARENCE  FARNSWORTH 


PORTLAND,  ME. 

SMITH  &  SALE 

1910 


COPYRIGHT  1910 
BY 

EDWARD   CLARENCE    FARNSWORTH 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Saint  Helena       .... 

.       3 

Old  Glory  at  the  Pole 

.     23 

Regret 

.     25 

Summer  and  the  Bird 

.    27 

Birdie 

.    28 

The  Skylark       .... 

.    29 

The  Secret         .... 

.    30 

A  Song  of  Joy    .... 

.    31 

May-Time         .... 

.    33 

Soul  Mating       .         .         .         . 

.    34 

Your  Eyes          .... 

.    35 

My  Morning-Time    . 

.    36 

Chopin  at  the  Piano   . 

.    37 

Berceuse 

.    39 

The  Sea  Prowler 

.    40 

Leviathan           .... 

.    41 

The  Harper       .... 

.    42 

Marguerite  in  the  Garden  . 

.     43 

On  Reading  the  Second  Part  of  Goethe's 

Faust          .... 

.    44 

To  Blanche        .... 

.    46 

The  Temple  and  the  Christ 

.    47 

The  Prodigal  Son 

.    50 

The  Marriage  at  Cana 

.    51 

C\  r\  i^^  ^~^ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

True  Riches       .... 

52 

Light         

53 

The  Ten  Virgins 

54 

The  Good  Samaritan 

55 

The  Parable  of  the  Vine     . 

56 

Love-Wisdom   .... 

57 

The  Parable  of  the  Leaven 

58 

Divine  Healing 

59 

The  Last  Review 

60 

A  Song  of  Labor 

64 

King  Edward     .... 

70 

VI 


SAINT  HELENA 


^    OF  THE 

HAL 


SAINT  HELENA 

\I7RECK!  Wreck!      O    helpless   wreck, 
^  ^     flood-cast  and  lone  ! 

0  hapless  wreck  the  ruthless  reefs  do  grind ! 
Abandoned  hull !  thy  tough  and  towering  masts, 
Gale-broken,  splintered,  gone  by  the  board,  no  more, 
Ah  !  never  more  sustain  the  mighty  spread 
Which  else  would  wing  thee  from  this  hateful  isle, 
Bare,  rock-upheaval  of  Earth's  prisoned  fire. 
Mid-ocean's  never-liberating  keep. 

Hell's  half  shut  door  not  hiding  yet  the  world. 

Poor,  ruined  relic  of  thy  shapely  self ! 

Mere  lessening  remnant  of  thy  beauty's  whole ! 

1  knew  thee,  weatherer  of  a  hundred  storms, 
Death-cheater  in  the  midst  of  foundering  fleets, 
Immune  in  battle,  leader  of  the  line. 

The  flagship  whose  dread  cannonade  could  drown 
The  sky-born  thunders  gathered  o'er  the  main. 
I  knew  thee  well;  none  better  knew;  in  truth 
Am  I  thy  breaking  bulk ;  of  me,  even  me 
The  staunch  wave-rider,  now  the  tides  make  toy. 
How  warping  suns  and  rotting  rains  increase 
The  sad,  continual  waste  from  what  I  was ! 
From  what  I  was  !     Ah  yes,  from  what  I  was ! 
But  surely  more  than  any  ship  was  I ; 
A  more  than  men  have  fashioned  to  obey 
The  helmsman's  puny  turning;  yet  this  end 
Dulls  not  one  ray,  one  glory,  of  that  hour 


When,  all  surpassing,  rose  my  star  on  me. 

No  lie  can  smirch  the  fame  of  fiery  deeds 

In  face  of  France  and  Europe  and  the  world; 

No  thief  can  filch  Time's  goodly  recompense. 

For  when  on  me  falls  neither  sun  nor  rain, 

And  no  wild  storm  disturbs,  and  not  a  beam 

Of  the  round  moon  illumes  my  hiding,  then. 

Yes  then,  unto  my  rest  shall  pilgrim  far 

The  Nature-prompted  might  and  manhood  born 

To  loathe  the  commonplace  of  little  lives. 

With  voice  sunk  whisper-ward,  and  mien  subdued. 

From  hearts  of  homage  reverently  they  speak; 

"Lies  here  the  limit  of  our  fruitful  quest; 

Our  Mecca  here,  our  kneeling  shrine  !    Hark  ye  ! 

How  clearly  is  from  lips  of  dust  vouchsafed 

The  sluggard-shaming  speech  that  moves  our  veins  ! 

This  then  is  mine  though  Fortune,  traitorous  luring 
To  proud  Ambition's  giddy  summit,  there. 
Like  to  the  crafty  fiend  of  eld,  displayed 
Earth's  waiting  kingdoms  far  and  near.     How  fair 
The  summer-wooing  vales  vine-walled  around. 
The  glacier-burdened  peaks,  the  northern  steppes, 
The  bloom  of  southward  field  and  sky,  the  ships 
And  navies  anchored  and  at  sea,  the  streams 
That,  through  historic  sites  and  cities,  mirror 
The  famed  bequeathings  of  the  classic  age ! 
The  calm  of  lakes  how  fair  !     How  fair  the  rills 
That  jet  and  sparkle  o'er  the  rocky  brink  ! 
And  many  a  plunging  cataract  how  fair ! 
And  many  a  trackless  gloom  of  hermit  wood, 
And  many  a  semi-solitude  of  shade. 
And  many  a  scythe  and  sickle-waiting  glebe. 
From  Peter's  northern  capitol  to  where  — 


Beyond  the  continent-dividing  flood  — 

The  pyramidal  tombs  of  Nilus  raise 

Honor  perpetual  to  the  sovereign  dead. 

The  sovereign  dead  !    With  scorn  and  pity,  both, 

I  've  chanced  on  where  the  rustic  clod  made  green 

His  low  ambition  and  his  final  gain, 

The  earthy  mould  to  which  his  soul  was  wed. 

Rude-lettered  rhyme,  uncouth,  sufficing,  taught 

The  plodding,  plowing  villagers  the  tale, 

That  vacuous  nothing,  his  poor  span  of  days. 

Meanwhile  the  world  he  stirred  not  rolleth  on ; 

The  great,  full  world  all  busy  by  him  rolls. 

The  sovereign  dead  !  The  deathless  sovereign  dead  ! 

The  stern,  iron-handed  moulders  of  that  clay, 

That  easy-shapen  clay,  the  usual  man ! 

On  Earth's  huge  round,  as  on  a  minted  coin. 

Their  name  and  likeness  long  outlasts  their  years. 

Rut-shunners,  in  new  roads  their  chariot  wheels 

Strike  fire,  their  horses  neigh  with  joy  indeed. 

Custom-ignorers,  to  themselves  a  law. 

Behold  in  these  the  pattern  of  the  new ! 

Prophetic  dreamers,  time-outstrippers,  lo. 

In  temple,  fearless  at  the  very  shrine, 

They  preach  offense,  a  higher,  grander  truth. 

Vessel-breakers  they  that  so  the  wine  of  life 

In  larger,  stronger  hold  may  sparkle  pure. 

War-bringers  that  untroubled  quiet  crown 

Their  rule  of  subjugated  rivalries. 

In  truth  world-overturners  they,  the  means 

Of  Heaven-ordered  change.    Their  mortal  end 

Some  day  leaves  vacuum  Nature  must  endure. 

In  death  the  lion  heart  at  last  is  low ; 

The  sore-bereaved  time  up-points  the  shaft 

And  graves  on  sculptured  stone  immortal  deeds. 


Oft  looking  on  the  limitless,  lone  sea 

Where,  solitary  one,  the  fisher  bird 

Is  sinking,  soaring,  and  unfrequent  sails 

Wing  near  this  rock, —  then  wholly  pass  me  by. 

Mine  eyes  desire  the  north  invisible 

Earth's  curving  round  behind.  How  far  !  How  far  ! 

Thou  loved,  lost  land  !  How  far  !    My  darling  France  I 

My  foster  child,  than  mine  own  kin  more  dear  ! 

Orphaned  I  found  thee  of  thy  Bourbon  sire 

Thou  prey  of  ravishers  at  home,  brute  men 

Of  tiger  mood.     Meanwhile,  with  cannon  clamour 

And  brandished  steel,  vindictively  upstood 

The  alien  armies  round  about  thy  realm. 

'Twas  then  from  nether  pit  of  shame  I  snatched. 

As  parent  watched  and  tended,  counselled,whom 

I  saw  most  statue-like  upgrow  a  queen. 

Befitting  thine  estate,  with  broken  crowns 

I  jewelled  thee  ;  rich  kingdoms  were  thy  dower 

O  thou  impoverished  long !     O  child  so  poor  ! 

Lamentest  still  thy  present  orphaning  ? 

Or  dost,  insensible  to  loss,  forget? 

Or,  as  the  false,  palm-strewing  multitude. 

Art  thou  ingrate,  of  fickleness  the  symbol  ? 

Not  so.     Alway,  for  love  of  me,  thy  brave. 

As  never  Roman  cohort  strove,  have  striven ; 

As  never  legion  for  their  Caesar  fell, 

Have  fallen.     'Neath  Egypt's  cloud-shunned, 

pitiless  dome 
Their  life,  outpouring,  drenched  the  torrid  sands 
Where  rainless  heavens  dropped  no  cooling.     Once 
Was  Nile  encrimsoned;  once  her  banks  were  strewn. 
There,  horse  and  rider,  lay  the  Mameluke 
Death-stayed  in  rout,  while  down  from  Cheop's  height 
His  forty  centuries  were  looking.     Once, 


Ripe  rose  of  Italy's  sun-rising;  once, 

Sweet  rose  of  her  sun-setting,  blushed  a  sod 

With  richer  red  than  roses  wear.     Your  blood, 

O  heart-drained  liberators  of  the  South ! 

Nourished,  as  on  your  soil  of  France  beloved. 

The  flower  of  liberty.     Flashed  forth  one  morn, 

From  out  the  wintry  East,  an  omen  bright, 

The  rising  orb  of  matchless  victory. 

Betimes  it  saw  the  plight  of  humbled  kings. 

The  shifting  bounds  of  continental  states, 

The  keen  heart-stab  at  plotting  England's  hopes, 

The  dire  defeat  to  Pressburg  leading ;  whilst 

Myself,  that  saw  my  hope's  ascension  bright, 

More  bright  than  warring  god's  good  shield,  did  hail 

The  sun  of  Austcrlitz.     And  in  reverse  — 

The  which  even  gods  have  known  —  reverse  indeed. 

Consummate  doing  of  the  mischievous  fiend 

Enkindling,  like  his  hell-abode  of  flame, 

The  templed  city  of  the  olden  Czars ; 

Yes,  midst  the  dull  despond  of  baffled  men — 

Than  weary  limbs  their  hearts  more  heavy-weighted  — 

Hoping  no  more  a  Wagram  or  a  Jena, 

A  fame  in  death  like  these  hoping  no  more; 

Amidst  the  woe  of  miles  endured  was  I, 

The  Emperor,  their  "Little  Corporal"  still. 

A  fadeless  vision  of  the  sumptuous  East 
Filleth  my  musings  with  a  vain  regret ; 
The  gorgeous  East,  barbaric  splendor  bright ; 
Voluptuous,  wooing,  tropic  East  I  knew; 
Enchantment  wrapt  in  radiant,  sunny  airs ; 
The  East  to  burning  zeal  enkindled  all 
If  touched  by  some  Mohammed  heart  of  flame. 
That  East  awaits  the  dominating  man, 


A  frenzied  urger  of  a  bigot  creed, 

Or  him  the  tolerant,  contained,  and  mild, 

Turning  the  ponderous  wheel  of  faith.     That  East 

Awaits  an  Alexander  more  humane. 

The  soldiers'  idol  and  the  people's  love. 

Fain  would  I  near  the  delta  of  Ganges  pile 

More  costly  stone  on  stone  than  did  Haroun 

In  Bagdad  midst  her  caleph  days  of  prime. 

Perchance  a  varied  glory  I  'd  upraise, 

Hoar  Karnak's  bulk,  the  growth  of  dynasties, 

Alhambra's  grace  ere  yet  her  woes  befell. 

And  Corinth's  marble  beauty  tipped  and  towered 

With  gold.     In  orient  capitol  should  blaze 

My  jewelled  throne  of  Ind,  no  Tamerlane  seat 

Of  fleeting  power.     Beside  the  sacred  stream, 

At  Buddha's  shrine  of  peace,  would  I  revere. 

I  'd  palace  near  the  emptying  flood  of  Nile, 

Or,  on  the  Ottoman  Sultan's  Bosporus  hill, 

Behold  a  more  than  that  Byzantine  dome 

Justinian  lifted  o'er  Sophia's  walls. 

Of  Islam  son,  I  'd  gain  her  birth-place  holy, 

A  turbaned  pilgrim,  find  the  prophet's  rest; 

The  desert  hordes  enlisted  to  my  will, 

Myself,  Napoleon,  *'  lion  of  the  desert," 

Would  sweep  Arabia's  waste  a  whirlwind  terror; 

Or,  'neath  the  bannered  lion  and  the  sun. 

Again  I  conquer  Cyrus'  empire  old. 

Rekindle  bright  my  Persia's  Gheber  fire; 

Or,  neutral  lord  of  lands  diverse,  I  blunt. 

With  smoothing  law  and  act,  the  bitter  spears 

Fanatic  fools  thrust  each  in  other's  heart. 

Such  course,  expedient,  is  Wisdom's  way 

Since  never  Faith  to  certainty  attains. 

And  Error  drags  at  her  most  heavenward  wing. 

8 


Grained  in  its  fibre,  mingled  with  its  blood, 
A  nation's  legacy  of  fixed  belief, 
Proved  just  and  decent,  meeteth  best  its  need. 
So  I  to  France  her  church  restored,  the  which 
Pretended  Reason's  goddess,  harlot  thing, 
Had  long  defamed,  insulted  and  defiled. 
Shaming  her  bestial  birth,  I  did  renew 
The  order  of  the  good  Gregorian  year. 


Again  the  Infinite,  that  dwelleth  deep  — 
So  saith  the  sage  —  at  center  of  our  life, 
Dilates  my  being  as  in  other  days. 
Alexander,  Caesar,  Scipio  mix  in  me 
Lord  of  all  lands,  tri-continental  king. 
Gibraltar  and  the  Dardanelles  I  hold ; 
I  harbor  in  the  Bosporus  my  sail; 
The  Mediterranean  bears  my  merchant  fleets. 
The  Black  and  Caspian  win  my  laden  hulls  ; 
The  Adriatic  woos  them  on  to  Venice; 
Marmora  bideth  to  the  Russian  ports. 
Scorning  the  tedious  doubling  of  the  Cape, 
Suez  I  channel  that  at  once  they  steer 
O'er  Pharaoh's  burial  to  the  Indian  sands, 
Ceylon,  Sumatra,  and  the  island  wealth 
Of  Australasia  and  Niphon  the  far. 
Himalaya  stays  not  whom  no  barrier  stays. 
Huge  China,  waked  from  olden  lethargy, 
Beholdeth  me  the  western-risen  sun. 
And  all  men  do  the  axle  change  behold 
Of  their  so  puny-turning,  little  sphere. 
But  ah,  what  discord  sudden  pains  my  ear! 
It  jars  upon  the  rapture  of  my  dream  ! 
It  startles  from  Trafalgar  and  the  Nile ! 


They  rend  me  England  !  rend  me  evermore, 
The  iron  mouths  of  thy  determined  war ! 
O  England !  England  !  England  !     But  for  thee 
My  plans  the  measure  of  my  deeds  had  been ! 
Even  when  a  Titan  dazed,  dethroned,  I  lay, 
A  peasant  people  then  had  borne  me  high ; 
A  million  hearts  for  me  their  tide  had  poured. 
But  ah,  the  flood,  the  deluge  unto  France ! 
And  I  was  weary,  weary  of  it  all. 


There  cometh  to  the  king  a  crownless  hour 

When  slips  the  sceptre  from  his  hand  of  clay; 

Nor  is  he  joined  to  dust  ere  men  do  cry, 

"Long  live  the  king!"     Soon  humbled,  death-deposed, 

Soon  sunken  to  the  hungry  worm  are  they 

That  wrought  my  fall,  that  on  my  ruin  gloat. 

How  goodly  seemeth,  on  the  crest  of  toil. 

Ambition's  prize !     At  distance  but  a  star. 

It  groweth  soon  a  world  whose  rounded  vast 

Henceforth  a  thousand  orby  fires  shall  hide 

Whilst  to  the  climber  laudings  thus  arise ; 

"  Star  reacher !    King,  sky-crowned  with  starry  sheen  ! 

Thine  eyes,  like  stars,  the  golden  night  survey.*' 

A  king  !     A  crown  !     What  mortal  jealousies ! 

What  gilded  goal  since  men  would  masters  be ! 

What  mock  of  gain !     What  woe  of  heapen  ills 

The  which  wise  Caesar,  wiser,  had  refused 

Alway !     In  power  his  peer,  in  wisdom  less, 

I  spurned  not  once  the  crown  and  kingship,  sweet, 

Of  what,  through  me,  should  be  than  Rome  more 

mighty, 
A  wider,  worthier  France  than  Bourbon  ruled, 
Girt  by  the  army,  our  safeguard  of  peace. 

10 


Long,  long,  O  land,  thy  doom  it  was  to  bleed ! 
From  almost  death-wounds  fell  the  drops  of  gore. 
But  when  indeed  thy  foes  were  smitten.  Peace, 
The  stauncher  of  thy  cruel  loss,  appeared. 
When  soon  in  thee  thy  native  vigor  wrought, 
Straightway  the  warrior  in  me  wholly  turned 
To  that  wherefor  my  righteous  arm  had  striven. 
Pacificator  of  the  realms,  I  hid 
In  scabbard  thy  renowned  and  just  defense. 
And  now,  O  Fate  !  wast  thou  fair  promiser 
To  this  my  project  dear — a  peaceful  land. 
Model  of  lands  and  of  the  world  to  be ; 
A  sober  France  for  all  the  drunken  past ; 
Order  from  riot,  revolution  sprung; 
Safety  upbuilded  on  the  fall  of  Terror; 
A  France  of  statesmen,  orators  and  soldiers, 
Of  sailored  merchantmen  and  ships  of  battle ; 
A  France  of  field  and  farm  and  vine  and  olive ; 
Resourceful  France  of  thriving  towns  and  cities ; 
Just  framer  of  the  equitable  law ; 
Arena  of  the  worthy  humble-born ; 
Retreat  of  the  mild,  meditative  sage ; 
Patron  of  Science,  of  all  learning  patron ;    ,  ^ 
Skilled  trainer  of  the  skilled  in  every  craft; 
Fountain  of  Music,  fount  of  mellow  song; 
Mother  of  poet-choosers  of  that  theme, 
Wherewith  the  painter  shall  achieve  his  fame. 
The  empire-building  of  a  hundred  camps. 
Smiled  thus  my  orby  dream,  alluring  star; 
Smiled  thus  my  sweetly-drawing,  planet  fate. 
Grandly  it  grew ;  a  splendour  fellowed  not 
In  heaven's  high-over-hanging  hemisphere. 
How  soon  did  Envy,  spying  Envy  mark ! 
The  shameful  envy  of  the  rival  stars! 

11 


Woe !  woe !  This  hope's  defeat !  This  dire  downhurl ! 
This  far,  sea-banished  rock  of  wretchedness ! 
This  ending  of  a  King  from  whose  high  seat 
A  throne-debaser  truckles  to  the  mob ! 

The  scholar,  curious,  busy  with  the  past, 

In  long  succession  views  the  affairs  of  men, 

The  fortunes  and  calamities  that  fell 

From  Adam  unto  Noah,  and  from  thence. 

Thereon  the  calm  discerner,  he  the  wise, 

Deep-pondering,  a  helpful  lesson  finds. 

But  if  the  maker  of  events,  the  mighty. 

Must  idle  though  their  crisis  bids  him  on, 

Sitteth  he  patient,  like  who  choose  no  part. 

When  lo,  the  world  he  guided  flies  the  mark  ? 

How  like  the  sun,  that  scorned  the  level  East, 

Man  lessens  from  the  summit  of  his  day  ! 

High-risen,  is  abased  at  length  a  nation. 

At  last  to  utter  lack  a  royal  line. 

Wise  Nature's  choice  is  he  whose  dynasty, 

Being  new,  nears  not  its  Nature-destined  end. 

The  choice  of  France  were  he,  if  choice  were  left, 

Yes,  he  whose  brow  the  symbol  did  upbear 

Of  western  empire,  even  the  iron  crown 

Of  Charlemagne  and  ancient  Lombardy. 

To  rid  a  monarchy  of  weak  misrule ; 

To  sweep  from  Europe  Bourbon's  base  regime ; 

To  found  instead,  and  otherwhere  if  best, 

A  rising  rule  of  kings  unworn,  blood-bound 

To  me  and  my  transmitted  blood,  a  rule 

Heart-bound  to  my  heart-hopes,  a  rule  spirit-bound 

Unto  my  master  spirit,  was  my  plan. 

For  this,  and  that  I  shew  whence  Kings  could  spring. 

Was  I  the  wrath  of  crowned  incapables, 

12 


A  thieving  Corsican,  my  theft  a  throne ; 
A  world-enkindling,  world-despoiling  thief 
Was  I.     Forthwith  our  neighbour  of  the  isles, 
Our  treaty-breaker,  foe  of  France  and  me, 
Deep-plunged  the  continent  in  general  broil 
By  English  craft  and  English  gold  renewed 
From  Amiens  onward.     Spite,  thus  thwarting  one 
From  humble  even  unto  highest  risen. 
Blunted  of  other  rise  the  spur,  and  so 
Back-turning  Europe  woos  again  the  night. 


Let  "Holy  Alliance,"  let  all  darkened  wits. 

Reverting  to  the  ages  dark,  uphold 

The  right  divine  of  senile  kings  and  lords 

'Gainst  one,  the  choice  of  millions  fit  to  choose, 

And  every  worthy  that  would  dare  aspire. 

Arisen  yesterday,  whipped  down  to-day, 

Men,  on  some  goodly  morrow,  gain  the  heights 

And  in  their  rise  avenge  my  overthrow. 

Princes  of  Europe  !     Autocrats  of  thrones  ! 

Quake,  quake  at  mutter  of  the  tongues  I  loosed  ! 

The  people  speak  !    The  people  !    Soon  doth  clamor 

The  public  voice  of  harsh  and  stern  command. 

No  serf,  in  gaging  Russia's  realm,  so  mute 

But,  long-enduring,  freeth  yet  his  tongue. 

Your  ebbing  rule,  O  Princes  !  turneth  not ; 

With  all  that  hateful  tide  the  shores  are  done. 

The  people !     Ah,  the  people  !     In  their  hearts 

A  hidden  spark  that  Freedom's  breath  is  fanning. 

Red  as  the  Jacobin's  wrath  it  flares ;  it  leaps. 

Whirling  ignition  to  the  winds  of  Earth. 

Concede,  O  kings !     If  suddenly  wise  concede  ! 

If  brute  self-interest  rule,  concede  !     Concede  ! 

13 


Hark !    On  mine  exile  breaks  the  noise  of  arms ; 

It  will  not  back  from  these  incongruous  days. 

Look  !  look  !  on  yonder  far-outspreading  look ! 

My  gathered  legions  meet  the  allied  host. 

Proudly  the  front  deploys ;  how  brave  its  menace  ! 

Each  straining  ear  awaits  the  signal  gun. 

A  dreadful  calm  !     A  death-still  moment !     Now 

The  sudden,  thrilling  boom  of  dread  command. 

Instant  doth  reel  this  tower,  this  iron  cliff. 

With  hideous  roar  of  hundred-fold  reply. 

Instant  all  eyes,  all  brain,  all  quick  resolve, 

I  stand,  of  Jovian  war  imperious  chief ; 

My  messengers  on  thousand  missions  fly. 

On,  on,  battalions  !     On,  tall  grenadiers  ! 

Lead  on,  Murat,  your  headlong  cavalry  ! 

On,  on,  manceuvering  horse  and  foot !    On,  Ney ! 

Pierce  yonder  right!     Maim  all  its  fair  outspread  ! 

Make  din  artillery-men  with  matches  lit ! 

Dismount  along  yon  crest  the  harrying  guns 

That  stay  with  heaping  slain,  the  brave  advance ! 

On,  Soult!  Turn,  turn  the  left !   Mow  down  its  pride ! 

Let  sword  be  sickle  in  this  harvest  hour ! 

Break  forth,  Drouet !  On  the  gained  flank  break  forth  ! 

Tear  every  column  with  a  cannon  pour ! 

Grind,  grind  its  bleeding  in  the  shameful  dust ! 

Charge  now  the  center ;  fearless  Lannes,  charge  ! 

Smite  !  smite  !  you  fury  !  smite  the  wavering  mass ! 

Cut  off,  cut  off  retreat  O  Berthier  ! 

Let  lance  and  sabre,  sword  and  volleying  arms. 

Hurl  back  the  ruin  of  the  vanquished  rear ! 

Marshals  of  France,  my  heart  approves  you  all; 

And  every  French  death -wooer.     Praise  to  you 

Men  of  the  South,  for  whom  I  crossed  the  Po, 

And  you  my  Swiss,  free-born  amidst  your  peaks, 

14 


You  patriot  Poles,  your  land  remembering, 

Confederates  of  the  Rhine,  and  many  a  friend 

Of  sweetest  vengeance,  joined  unto  our  cause. 

Your  grievance  brought  to  this  just,  reckoning  hour. 

'T  is  done  !     The  prisoned  foe  bereft  of  succor  ! 

Hell's  withering  torment  walls  him  every  side, 

And  all  our  batteries  feed  the  dreaded  flame. 

England,  whose  bulky  spread  is  round  the  world, 

In  little  hollow  of  my  hand  I  '11  crush. 

Back,  Prussia !  get  thee  back  to  Brandenburg ! 

Henceforth  a  palsied  death  in  life  bemoan ! 

Austria,  remember  Italy  !     Bernard  ! 

With  weightier  avalanche  than  leaves  his  crest, 

I  whelm  thee  more  than  on  the  Piedmont  plain. 

Russia,  forego  that  dream  of  Ind  !     Thy  crown 

Is  forfeit ;  aye,  thy  very  name  unspoke 

In  the  new  Europe  that  from  this  doth  rise. 

Alas  !  alas  !  what  sense-defrauding  show  ! 

What  wild  extravagance  of  hopeful  dream  ! 

Yon  smoky  war,  an  empty  sea-mist  clearing, 

Reveals  but  lapping  of  the  humbled  waves, 

And  me  a  broken,  humbled,  useless  man 

In  the  vast,  circling  solitude  alone. 

Shrinks  North  mine  empire  from  the  inqaistor's 

shame ; 
It  yields  the  Spanish  Bourbon  and  the  priest, 
The  southward  look  from  crest  of  Pyrenees. 
Belgium  is  lost  me  and  the  seaward  Rhine ; 
Holland  the  maritime,  her  every  sailor. 
Retreats  my  sovereignty  o'er  the  Alps  I  scaled 
What  time,  with  mighty  project's  instant  act, 
I  brake  the  Austrian,  the  Hapsburg  yoke. 
How  ingrate  Milan  thrusts  my  sceptre  back ! 
She,  once  a  patriot  hailer  of  its  rule 

15 


Beyond  the  palace  of  the  Papal  See, 

Of  Lodi  and  Rivoli  soon  forgets. 

To  Naples  are  my  glittering  triumphs  cold, 

Duller  than  smoking  of  her  indolent  peak. 

Divorced  from  fickle  Genoa  am  I ; 

Marengo  joyeth  not  her  heart  of  change. 

What  weighs  it  that  in  Venice  I  made  cease 

The  doge,  the  council,  and  the  tyrant  years  ? 

All  Italy  is  thankless  to  my  sword. 

The  mark  of  thunderous  war,  my  smitten  crown 

Lies  twisted,  broken,  on  the  Elba-ward  shore ; 

The  shredded  clothing  of  my  proper  state, 

Stripped  clean  at  Waterloo,  doth  leave  alas ! 

This  jailor's  scorn,  this  utter  nakedness. 

When,  often,  to  my  practiced  eye,  the  beam 

Of  balanced  fight  adversely  leaned,  myself, 

A  savmg  weight,  into  the  van  I  hurled. 

Around,  at  hand-touch.  Death  my  brave  would  crown 

With  glory  ample,  spotless.     As  for  me, 

In  vain  the  cannon  hurl,  the  musket  volley, 

The  edged  and  pointed  rage  of  charging  war ! 

Men  deemed  it  rashness,  folly.     Never  I 

Who,  filled  with  sweet  foreknowledge  of  my  rise, 

Believed  an  angel's  interposing  wings 

Turned  either  side  the  bolt,  the  rending  iron, 

The  gashing  and  the  prodding  steel.     So  Fate, 

Kind-seeming,  though  on  sore  unkindness  bent. 

Refused  me  battle  death  to  lure  the  more 

Toward  that  revealing  which  transformed  my  shield 

From  helping  Heaven  into  plotting  Hell. 

Ah,  when  some  foe-encompassed  ancient,  fallen 

Saul-like  upon  his  once-redoubted  sword. 

Did  cheat  the  conqueror  of  a  captive  king, 

16 


Held  honorable,  in  honored  grave  he  slept. 

How  little  doth  philosophy  inform 

The  soldier  fit  for  hot  and  headlong  war  ! 

Soldier-philosopher  somewhat  am  I 

Self-murder  shunning  as  not  ease  of  woe. 

Soldier-philosopher  henceforth  the  more, 

From  out  the  wisdom-schools  of  Greece  I  *11  choose 

Firm  Zeno  for  my  comfortable  stay. 

To  what  grave  limit  I  disturbed  the  law, 

And  who  disturbs  not?  —  none  being  just  save  God 

Let  me  its  keen  rebound  unmurmuring  bear. 

This  rock  my  expiating  altar  be  ! 

Ah,  *t  is  not  in  the  winning  of  a  fight ! 
Ah,  *t  is  not  in  the  blazoning  of  a  name  ! 
Ah,  't  is  not  in  the  mounting  of  a  throne  ! 
Nor  in  the  founding  of  a  stable  line  ! 
That  lofty  kings  have  most  of  happiness ; 
That  earth-wide  human  happiness  which  seeks 
The  serf  king-ridden,  miserably  poor. 
Lo,  when  the  worn  campaigner's  work  was  done. 
And  quenched  the  bivouac  fire  by  whose  torch 
Remembrance  made  my  dreams  a  sad  farewell. 
Thou,  who  thy  lighter  days  didst  well  redeem. 
Heart-winner  !  Empress  !  Josephine  !  With  thee, 
Shut  from  the  noisy  mouthing  of  my  fame, 
I  lived  my  life's  one  pure  felicity. 
Down-looking  from  thy  sorrow's  ease  forgive  ! 
Enduring,  loyal  heart ;  forgetting  not 
Forgive  !  Forgive  J  When  bears  the  humble  wife 
Unto  her  peasant  lord  the  inheritor 
Of  his  few  acres,  meed  of  bliss  is  hers 
Denied  thee,  once  of  palace  and  of  court 
The  queenly  grace,  and  of  all  women  envy. 

17 


What  use  Ambition's  triumph  over  love  ? 

Of  what  avail  its  sacrifice  of  thee  ? 

Fortune  derides  me  with  a  throneless  heir 

Whom  foes  would  teach  to  scorn  his  father's  name. 

As  for  that  other,  level  was  her  way. 

Never  from  prison  unto  throne  upclimbing, 

Her  feet  are  timid  at  the  downward  steep  i 

Low-ending  here.     Nor  could  she,  choosing,  come 

Whose  walk  is  measured  by  a  golden  chain. 

Come  then  my  Zeno !     Stoic  wisdom,  come  ! 

Such  weak  complaining  shames  the  soldier's  breast. 

Come,  make  me  iron  on  this  rigid  base 

Where  thwarted  Ocean  raves  along  the  cliff, 

Or  mourns  this  lifted  rock,  his  lost  domain  ! 

Let  then  the  vexing  storm  forsake  the  deep 

To  drive  on  me  the  drenching  rain.     Let  chill 

Discomfort  of  the  salty  fogs  enwrap ; 

The  tropic  sun  from  high  meridian  pour. 

Unheeded  let  my  guards  patrol  me  round, 

And  spies  infest  my  rightful  privacy. 

And  coward  Insult  more  audacious  grow. 

The  hairs  of  my  shorn  strength  remembering ! 

And  thou,  whose  trust-betrayal  caged  a  king ; 

Let  all  the  cordon  of  thine  English  sail 

Make  hopeless  of  deliverance  the  sea. 

I  would  be  hardened  save  to  gratitude 

That  melts  me  at  love's  test,  beloved  !  in  you 

Self-exiled  sharers  of  my  banishment. 

Where  throng  they  now  who  sunned  them  in  my  noon, 

And  fawned  and  flattered  till  the  even  hour? 

Housed  'neath  some  roof  convenient  by,  the  dark 

They  shun,  the  barren  where,  O  proven  few ! 

Mistaking,  ye  would  stay  my  soul's  release. 

18 


Full  soon  your  parting  deed,  your  parting  word ; 

Full  soon  your  parting  sorrow,  earliest  tear 

That  soft  betokeneth  a  general  grief 

When  many  know  me  as  yourselves  have  known. 

Full  soon  the  circling  ocean  hems  my  sleep 

In  shadows  lone  of  yonder  hermit  vale 

That  stills  at  last  the  solemn  bell  of  old 

Awaking  yet  my  childhood  years  in  me. 

There  must  my  ashes  wait  a  juster  day, 

Interment  honor  'neath  some  ample  dome 

Of  my  great  capitol,  its  millions  thronging 

To  solemn,  sad  commemoration.     Then 

The  times  pulse  by  me ;  noble  times  I  pray. 

To  words  and  deeds  of  noble  men  atuned. 

Safe-gathered  to  the  heart  of  France  I  rest ; 

Impetuous  heart,  toward  friends  with  ardor  burning, 

On  foes  it  rains  a  fierce,  volcanic  fire. 

O,  human-throbbing  heart  that  treasures  yet 

The  sacred  dust  of  Clovis !  bosom  thou 

Alway,  death-remnant  of  thy  latest  love  ! 

I  see  the  army  in  a  vast  review ; 
The  army  marshalled  from  their  worthy  sleep ; 
Caparisoned  and  plumed  in  soldier  wise. 
The  army,  gallant  horse  and  sturdy  foot. 
The  shouldered  muskets  flash  a  myriad  points 
Of  bayonet  steel ;  the  hero's  blade  is  bare ; 
The  bloody,  shredded  flags  are  proudly  borne ; 
From  balcony  and  roof  and  every  height, 
Our  brave  tricolgr  opens  on  the  wind 
That  brings  the  acclaim  of  countless  multitudes. 
The  battle  lingers  in  the  warrior's  eye ; 
The  bugles  flare  the  fiery  notes  of  yore ; 
The  drums  are  throbbing  with  the  long  ago. 

19 


Heroic  marches  of  our  old  campaigns, 

Arousing  rhythms,  wake  me  from  my  rest. 

Soldiers,  this  day  an  audience  !     This  day  — 

Your  own  —  of  open  hearts  and  open  door. 

An  audience  !     In  mausoleum  fit, 

In  palace-tomb,  all  marble-throned  I  wait. 

Draw  near,  my  comrades  !  Close  around  me  gather ! 

Recount  the  glories  of  our  mutual  years  ! 

Come  you,  the  humblest,  better  than  the  proud 

Ambassadors  of  haughty  kings  !     Salute 

Your  General !  your  Emperor  !     Believe 

His  eye  yet  looketh  and  his  voice  inspires 

When  France  is  ringing  with  a  call  to  war  1 


20 


OTHER  POEMS 


OLD  GLORY  AT  THE  POLE 

TN  thawless  regions  of  untrodden  snow 
-■-    The  North,  forbidding,  stern,  has  builded  well, 
Behind  the  ice-walls  and  the  riven  floe. 
His  kingdom's  long-enduring  citadel. 

Not  any  creature  of  the  earth  or  sea 
Would  dare  the  rigor  of  his  central  hold 

In  darkness  hid  till  barren  seedtime  be, 

And  scorned  of  summer  whose  low  sun  is  cold. 

The  sky  is  empty  of  the  wandering  wings 
That  shun  instinctively  the  journey  lone ; 

The  air  is  joyless,  for  the  vocal  springs 
Are  bubbling  music  in  a  softer  zone. 

What  snare  !  What  fall !   What  mystery  of  fate  ! 

Of  frost  and  famine  ah,  what  lingering  pain 
Bestrew  the  highways  to  the  outmost  gate 

Of  that  unreachable  man  seeks  in  vain  ! 

What !  seeks  in  v^in  ?     Where  Earth  on  pivot  turns, 
The  moveless  axle  of  its  motion  vast. 

Is  fixed  a  banner,  and  above  it  burns 
Polaris  in  the  Arctic  heavens  fast. 

O  banner,  thwarted  oft,  determined  still ! 

One  sharpest  struggle  and  behold,  'twas  done, 
The  deed  of  fervor  and  triumphant  will 

Whereby  the  searching  Centuries  have  won. 

O  starry  sovereign  in  that  northmost  land  ! 

Upon  thy  triumph  stars  have  shone  ere  now ; 
Thy  staff  is  set  on  many  a  tropic  strand ; 

And  alien  peoples  to  our  symbol  bow. 

23 


Surmount  the  terrors  of  Antarctic  seas  ! 

O'er  berg  and  glacier  gain  the  crowning  goal 
Well-guarded  as  the  old  Hesperides  ! 

Unfurl  thy  glory  at  the  nether  pole  ! 


24 


REGRET 

WITH  apple  bloom  the  trees  were  white, 
But  summer  now  fulfills  the  hope  of  spring ; 
The  years,  how  have  they  taken  flight ! 

For  years  are  numbered  since  that  blossoming. 

A  memory  shapes  before  my  eyes, 

One  blossom,  sweetest  of  that  roofing  sweet, 
And  I  a-reach  for  flowery  prize 

When  thou,  so  near,  wast  sweetness  all  complete. 

Ah,  had  I  known  !     Ah,  had  I  known  ! 

Self-doomed  to  haunt  the  shades,  of  thee  bereft, 
I  mourn  indeed  those  moments  flown ; 

I  grieve  that  in  my  culling  thou  wast  left. 

Then  to  yon  cottage,  once  thy  home, 

I  turn  as  Moslem  will  at  muezzin  turn. 

What  spacious  temple,  what  high  dome. 

Can  so  compel  me,  and  my  heart  concern  ? 

Yonder  my  temple,  dome,  and  shrine ; 

And  on  its  walls  a  face  whose  like  I  keep 
Fadeless  and  faultless  in  me ;  thine. 

Yes  thine  !  my  dream  in  waking  and  in  sleep. 

This  much  of  thee,  while  life  shall  last, 

Wrests  from  another  nothing  of  his  right ;  ' 

I  paint  me  pictures  of  the  past. 

Dear  household  pictures  round  thy  presence  bright. 

My  loss,  I  paint  it  evermore 

With  brush  rich-dyed  in  every  joy  I  miss. 
I  frame  thee  eager  at  our  door 

To  end  my  absence  with  a  wifely  kiss. 

25 


I  paint,  in  beauty  at  thy  side, 

A  child  that  should  in  all  resemble  thee. 
Caressing  her  with  parent  pride, 

I  know  my  fondness  stirs  not  jealousy. 

Thou  hast  of  gentle  gifts  the  range. 

A  very  woman  fit  for  every  test, 
Thou  keepest  faith  though  others  change. 

All  this  in  thee  had  made  my  living  blest 

Had  I  but  known  !  Had  I  but  known  ! 

Self-doomed  to  haunt  the  shades  of  thee  bereft 
I  mourn  indeed  those  moments  flown ; 

I  grieve  that  in  my  culling  thou  wast  left. 


26 


SUMMER  AND  THE  BIRD 

CONG  and  blossom-scented  breath  of  May, 
^     Sweets  of  yonder  bough,  the  breezes  bring; 
Breezes  that  bestrew  the  grassy  way. 
White  and  fragrant  with  their  scattering. 

Summer,  thralled  by  one  I  joy  to  hear, 
Will  her  wonted  term  no  more  await. 

Wooing,  winning  bird  !  to  hold  her  near, 
Every  wood-note,  thine,  reiterate. 

When  shall  bloom  this  valley  round  her  feet, 
Morning  bids  thee  splash  the  pebbly  rills ; 

Noon  persuades  thee  to  some  dim  retreat, 
Twilight  calls  to  where  the  fountain  spills : 

Night  winds  cradle  soft  the  birdling's  rest 
Thou  hast  woven  in  love's  favoring  tree ; 

Moons,  unshadowed,  gild  the  roofing  crest ; 
Stars,  auspicious,  look  all  tenderly. 

When  to  Summer  palls  thy  liquid  spell, 
Then,  deserted  midst  the  wan  leaves*  fall, 

Thou  in  heart  free  song  dissemblest  well 
Lest  thy  loneliness  appear  to  all. 


27 


BIRDIE 

T?  VERY  latest  leaf  has  gone, 
-■— '     And  the  South  has  bid  you  on. 
Birdie,  by  the  wooded  walk, 
In  the  branching  maple's  fork, 
Hangs  an  empty  nest. 

Many  times  a  pauser  here 
Just  to  catch  your  morning  cheer, 
Well  enough  I  knew  that  nigh, 
Somewhere,  somewhere,  O  you  sly  ! 
Lay  your  hidden  home. 

At  my  feet  a  broken  shell 

Doth  to-day  a  secret  tell. 

Birdie,  not  for  me  were  flung. 
Not  for  me,  the  notes  that  sprung 
From  your  heart  of  joy. 

All  that  singing  in  the  sun, 
All  that  pleasing,  was  for  one 

Who,  so  careful  of  her  brood, 

Chose  the  safer  solitude 
Of  the  gloomiest  tree. 

Birdie,  'neath  a  roofing  palm 
Shape  the  dwelling  hid  from  harm  ! 
Should  the  passer  in  his  pride 
Think  for  him  your  notes  are  tried, 
Let  him  learn  as  I ! 


28 


THE  SKYLARK 

T  TP  from  the  prisoning  gloom  of  night, 
^^      Yon  tiny  bird  the  air  doth  smite ; 
Attains  he  ever  in  the  height 
Though  broad  wings  fail  in  weaker  flight. 

Where  far  the  dome  of  morn  grows  bright, 
He  dwindles  from  the  straining  sight. 
Hark!  midst  the  utmost  film  of  white, 
To  earth  and  heaven  he  pours  delight ! 


29 


THE  SECRET 

T  UST  behind  the  curtain,  by  the  new  leaves 
^      made, 

Hides  the  secret,  newest  secret  of  the  shade. 
Fairer,  fairer  is  it  than  the  summer  hue 
Fairest  June  outspreads  above ;  her  daily  blue. 

Ah,  the  blue  shall  brighten  nevermore  the  nest 
Now  a  swinging,  gently  swinging,  now  at  rest. 
Little  mouths  are  open,  little  throats  complain 
Mother,  mother,  careful  mother,  come  again ! 

'  Chooseth  she  to  linger  ?     Whither  would  she 

fly?" 
Peace,  you  birdlings,  hungry  birdlings,  she  is  by ! 

Quick  I  drop  the  curtain ;  quicker  her  alarm. 

Timid,  timid,  think  you  I  would  do  them  harm  ? 


30 


A  SONG  OF  JOY 

T    ITTLE  bird,  little  bird  that  I  hear ; 
-■— '     What  a  grief  you  have  told  ! 
From  the  heart  of  the  thicket  appear, 
For  the  shadows  are  cold  ! 

Comes  a  joy  with  the  morning's  increase, 

And  the  sky  brightens  o'er. 
Bid  the  night-fostered  sadness  to  cease 

From  your  throat  evermore- 

Shun  the  grove  lest  it  burden  your  lay ! 

Let  no  heaviness  be  ! 
Spread  your  wings  for  the  fields,  and  away 

To  the  sun-favored  tree  ! 

Looking  thence,  on  the  open,  repine 

Through  no  profitless  hour  ! 
There  the  clover  distilleth  its  wine. 

And  the  weed  beareth  flower. 

There  the  daisy  and  buttercup  spring. 

And  the  rose  is  a  fire 
New-enkindled,  a  love-lighted  thing 

Long  the  season's  desire. 

There  the  hawthorn  bloomed  sweet  by  the  well. 

Overhanging  the  brink. 
Till  the  May-joying  white  of  it  fell 

Where  the  wild  creatures  drink. 

Lo,  the  violet,  freshening  in  dew 

Till  the  sun  fills  her  eye, 
Hath  a  boon  from  the  favoring  blue, 

From  the  deep  of  the  sky ! 

31 


And  the  bee  in  his  round  goeth  gay, 

As  he  toils  and  he  feeds ; 
And  the  winds  through  the  meadows,  at  play. 

Float  the  feather-like  seeds. 

And  the  grasses  are  rank  from  the  rain 

Whence  the  fountains  are  fed. 
Soon  the  corn  groweth  up  and  is  grain, 

Or  the  wheat  in  its  stead ; 

And  the  apple  is  shaped  from  the  blow 

That  it  redden  and  fall. 
And  the  yield  of  the  vineyard  shall  glow 

By  the  blast-breaking  wall. 

Through  such  days,  every  moment  a  joy, 

Are  the  Earth's  doings  done. 
Learn  her  praise  that  it  be  your  employ 

As  her  good  helping  one  ! 

Bringing  cheer  to  your  new-gotten  seat. 

All  the  faith  in  you  bring 
Though  repiners  their  doublings  repeat 

Where  the  night  shadows  cling  ! 


32 


MAY-TIME 

T3  RINGING,  bringing  to  the  boughs  a  singing, 

-■-^     Cometh  bright  the  May. 

Springing,  springing,  flowers,  her  own,  are  flinging 

Odors  down  the  way. 
Lead  us  to  the  sunny  glade. 
And  the  borders  of  the  shade  ! 
Lead  us  to  the  piney  wood, 
And  the  whispering  solitude  ! 
Never  rose  a  fitter  day ; 

Onward  lead  us,  Onward,  May  ! 

Peeping,  peeping  from  the  vines  low-creeping. 

Greet  us  pink  and  white  ! 
Leaping,  leaping,  streamlet  never  sleeping, 

Dance  a  measure  light! 

Merry  brook  and  blossomed  sweet, 

One  will  prove  your  joy  a  cheat 

When  his  throat  of  music  mild 

Wakes  the  sadness  of  the  wild. 

Listening  to  the  gentle  lay. 

Thou  shalt  sorrow,  tender  May. 


33 


SOUL  MATING 

T    IKE  some  resplendent  star 

-*— '     That  cheers  the  bosom  of  the  lonely  sea, 

Thy  faithful  soul  from  far 

A  joy  has  brought,  a  happiness,  to  me. 

O  lavish  star  and  soul ! 

Unstinted  givers  of  your  light  and  love ! 
What  though  the  years  onroll ! 

True  love  endures,  and  so  the  light  above. 

Ere  ever  stars  obeyed, 

Or  ocean  waited  for  the  welcome  shine, 
Creation's  law  was  made; 

That  sweet  compelling  which  doth  hold  thee 
mine. 

Love  was  thy  guide  O  star ! 

It  drew  and  bound  thee  to  the  waiting  deep. 
Thou  soul !  not  any  bar 

Could  from  its  own  thy  destined  being  keep. 


34 


YOUR  EYES 

WOULD  I  behold  where  falls  the  purest  light 
Of  orbs  unequalled  in  the  cloudless  night, 
I  leave  the  morning  West,  the  evening  skies, 
And  turn,  a  lover,  to  your  tender  eyes 
That  catch  a  beam  of  some  celestial  star. 
Beyond  my  seeing,  in  the  deeps  afar ; 
A  hint  of  beauty  dwelling  in  God's  mind ; 
An  urge  of  something  that  the  soul  should  find. 


35 


MY  MORNING-TIME 

TVyTY  morning-time,  again  your  skies  are  flushing ; 

-*-^-'-     My  sun  of  life,  your  earliest  light  appears. 

Upon  its  rays  remembered  scenes  come  rushing 
That  fail  me  never  through  the  after  years. 
The  after  years,  the  after  years, 
The  heaven-appointed  after  years. 

From  this,  my  window,  all  the  vision  meets  me ; 
Beneath  my  childhood's  roof  is  glimpsed  again 
The  bygone  yester.     In  each  room  it  greets  me 
As  long  I  linger  at  the  magic  pane. 

The  magic  pane,  the  magic  pane, 
The  well-revealing  magic  pane. 

Yon  darksome  clouds  were  only  half  a  sorrow ; 

As  now  appearing,  ever  have  they  been. 
A  hue  of  glory  each  did  rightly  borrow 

From  some  sweet  neighboring  joy,  its  helpful  kin. 
Its  helpful  kin,  its  helpful  kin. 
Its  heaven-begotten  helpful  kin. 

My  heart  is  quickened  to  a  springtime  measure, 
A  pulse  and  rhythm  loved  and  learned  of  old. 
My  song  is  lifted  to  the  gifts  I  treasure ; 

High  heavens-outpouring  from  her  wealth  of  gold. 
Her  wealth  of  gold,  her  wealth  of  gold, 
Her  never-failing  wealth  of  gold. 

Shine  father,  mother,  framed  in  this  good  dawning! 

Shine  sister,  brother,  in  this  rising  bright ! 
Shine  youth,  our  guest !    Again  it  is  the  morning 
When  we  were  thine,  and  thou  our  young  delight. 
Our  young  delight,  our  young  delight, 
Our  never-aging  young  delight. 

36 


CHOPIN  AT  THE  PIANO 

T_TE  sees  the  sun-kissed  lily,  and,  beside, 
-■-  ^     Unwooed    of    day,    the   night-flower's 

modest  bloom. 
He  sees  the  orange  spray  upon  the  bride, 
And  ah,   the  wreathed  farewell   within  the 
tomb. 

He  hears  the  mating  call  at  flush  of  spring, 
The  grieving  of  the  grove-hid  hermit  bird. 

The  tree-top  anthem,  pines  a  whispering, 
And  thunder's  awsome  inarticulate  word. 

Hoarse  ocean's  wrath  doth  cadence  to  a  sigh  ; 

Sweet,   wildly  sweet,   the  themes  of  brook 
and  fall ; 
In  rocky  bed  the  torrent  hurleth  by ; 

Loud  seas  are  booming  on  the  barrier  wall, 

And   Poland,   thou  dost  lend  thy  heart-com- 
plain ; 
But  now,  torn  prey  of  foes,  is  voiced  that 
time 
When  soldier-kings  did  valorously  sustain 
The    broad    dominion   of    thy   vanquished 
prime. 

Revives,  in  palace  hall,  the  festal  day. 

The  stately  dancing  of  the  king-led  high ; 

Returns,  'neath  peasant  roof,  the  lissom  sway, 
The  grace,  untaught,  wherewith  no  art  can 
vie. 


37 


Again,  again  the  bitter  mastering  grief ! 

Lost  battle,  and  the  unachieving  brave, 
Prompt  requiem,  and  those  drops  of  heart-relief 

The  patriot  pours  upon  his  country's  grave. 

What  change !  What  wizard  change !  In 
turn  supreme, 

Each  mood  the  player  conjures  from  his  soul 
Till  all  the  gamut  sings  the  poet  dream 

Wherein  he  liveth  years  of  joy  and  dole. 


38 


BERCEUSE 

^TT^HOU  seest,  child,  the  cherub  wings 

-*-       So  near  I  almost  see. 
Kind  Heaven  unto  thy  slumber  sings, 
Nor  quite  denies  to  me. 

Dream  on  that  dream-compelling  song 
Star-born  as  song  can  be ; 

An  earthward  message  from  the  throng 
That  choirs  eternally. 

The  rapt,  resounding  notes  grow  mild, 
In  passage  down  the  deep. 

Till  hovering  guardians  voice,  my  child, 
A  whisper  to  thy  sleep. 

What  brook  had  e'er  that  silvery  purl  ? 

What  breeze  that  sweet  complaint? 
What  harp  such  wildering,  fairy  whirl  ? 

What  bird  such  love-restraint  ? 

Thou,  Chopin,  for  an  hour  made  young. 
Didst  catch  the  whisper  clear. 

Heaven's  inmost,  to  the  man  unsung, 
The  child  in  thee  could  hear. 


39 


THE  SEA  PROWLER 

T    OOK,  lurking  in  the  merchant  ways  a  sail ! 
-■■^     'Tis  she,  the  terror  of  the  traveled  main ! 
Not  ever  from  her  deck  a  cheery  hail 

Greeteth  the  passer.    No !  her  masts  will  strain 
With  keen  pursuing  should  the  prey  appear. 

And  then  a  flash,  the  cannon's  harsh  command, 
The  stern  defiance  and  the  scorn  of  fear. 

The  high  heart-purpose  of  the  little  band, 
Unmentioned  heroes  of  the  losing  fray 

Whose  witness  is  the  writing  angel.     Lo, 
The  page  awaits  that  one  supremest  day 

Wherein  the  nations  shall  its  brightness  know, 
For  then  the  records  of  the  world  are  writ. 
And  Justice  on  her  judgment  seat  doth  sit. 


40 


LEVIATHAN 

TjROUD  monarch  throned  upon  the  proudest  wave 
-■-       Afar  they  sweep  those  liquid  realms  of  thine. 
The  caverned  Sea  reveals  her  grandest  cave 

Beaming  with  treasure  of  her  richest  mine; 
But  thou  wilt  not  the  wall,  the  roof,  though  kings 

Believe  a  palace  in  a  prison  fair, 
And  have  their  joy  in  such  alluring  things 

As  gild  thy  passage  to  the  domed  air. 
Leviathan;  the  world  above  thy  birth, 

Finding  the  waters  in  that  natal  hour, 
Thy  need  fulfilled  with  vital  breath  whose  dearth 

Would  prove  the  ending  of  thy  prime  of  power. 
To  some  anointed,  crowned,  acclaimed  as  king, 
That  fate  befell  amidst  their  honoring. 


41 


THE  HARPER 

pURE  as  yon  planet  of  the  golden  eve, 
-*-       Is  every  haunting  measure,  harper  fair, 

Gold-crowned  with  wealth  and  glory  of  thy  hair. 
A  soulful,  rapt  Cecilia,  wholly  leave 
The  downward  gazing  thou  who  dost  perceive. 

In  thy  star-search,  the  twilight  realms  of  blue 

Whereof  thine  eyes  have  caught  the  deepening  hue. 
Find,  for  this  pensive  hour,  the  notes  that  grieve, 
The  plaintive  chords  thy  fingers  deft  should  weave. 

Forget  the  joy  of  sun-enlightened  day. 
The  joy  turned  sadness  at  the  dying  beam, 

Or  sound  the  music  of  some  far  away 
More  restful  sweet  than  any  waking  theme, 
And  harking,  hearing,  we  indeed  shall  dream. 


42 


MARGUERITE  IN  THE  GARDEN 

T3  EHOLD,  his  face  is  imaged  on  the  deep, 
•^^    The  limpid  calm,  the  yet  unsounded  sea. 

That  till  this  hour  thy  bosom  hid  from  thee. 
Ah,  which  is  better,  to  rejoice,  or  weep? 
Ah,  which  is  loss,  to  wholly  lose,  or  keep  ? 

Kind  seems  the  hand  from  whence  these  flowers, 
and  he 

These  jewels  left  that  maid  so  fair  might  be 
Even  more  fair.     Pray  what  shall  Hope  yet  reap 

From  this,  and  one  sweet,  courteous  look  and 
word  ? 

He  comes  !  Be  still  O  heart  so  newly  stirred  ! 
He  speaks  !  Be  virgin-mannered  modest  maid ! 

He  woos  !  Now  is  thy  spinning  all  forgot, 
And  Love's  first  garden,  and  the  twilight  shade 

Of  Eden,  grow  around  what  Love  has  wrought. 

How  ill-companioned  thou,  O  Faust,  to-night ! 

Stands  yon  thy  master  with  a  friendship  feigned. 

Alas  the  woman !     Her  pure  heart  is  pained 
Lest  love  prove  faithless  lust  that  shuns  the  light. 
And  brings  unto  her  paradise  its  blight. 

Stoop,  stoop  and  crawl,  O  presence  unexplained  ! 

She  thus  should  know  thee  serpent.      Leave 
ungained 
Thy  demon  quest,  and  hellward  take  thy  flight ! 

Behold,  her  ^ul  of  faith,  thy  scorn,  false  one ! 
Thy  servant's  plaything  now,  shall  yet  defy 

Thine  utmost,  and,  though  seemingly  undone. 
In  death's  strong  moment  find  the  farthest  sky. 

Therefrom  her  angel  influence  shall  go 

To  lift  her  lover  from  the  final  woe. 


43 


ON  READING  THE  SECOND  PART 
OF  GOETHE'S  FAUST 

13  Y  Love  uplifted,  knowledge  shall  in  thee 
•^^     Attain  to  Wisdom,  leaven  of  thy  days. 
Abide  !  God's  purpose  bids  thee  here  abide 
Till,  free  amidst  the  flowery  snares  of  earth. 
Thou  loathest  all  that  bound  thy  lustful  heart. 

Again,  O  Faust,  the  tempter  and  the  toil ! 
Again  enticement  by  the  fiend  devised  ! 
Behold  her!     Helen  conjured  from  the  years, 
The  Grecian  years,  the  memorable  past ! 

O  joy !  O  marvel !     Final,  full  escape  ! 
The  artist  and  the  poet,  inly  born, 
Fulfill  with  purer  sight  thine  eyes,  thy  thought 
With  Love's  first  prompting  pure,  thy  lofty  dreams 
With  goal  most  lofty,  all-inclusive  Love. 
Because  in  thee  is  Wisdom  Love-inspired, 
Thou  slippest  daily  from  the  grasp  of  one 
Deeming  that  more  he  knows  whom  less  he  knows 
With  every  bounty  by  his  guile  bestowed. 
Stranger  to  Wisdom  since  from  Heaven  he  turned, 
Both  love  and  lust  confounds  he  evermore ; 
To  him  both  rule  and  station  prompt  man's  pride, 
Occasion  moves  indeed  the  grasping  hand. 
And  covetous  heart,  and  all  that  makes  for  Hell. 

Hail !  man  of  noble  aim  approved  of  eyes 
Immortal !     Hail !  thou  philanthropic  wise  ! 
Thy  years,  a  hundred,  quench  the  glance  abroad 
On  every  benefaction  of  thine  age. 
But  Time  wide-opens  now  the  clearer  eye 

44 


Deed-searching  to  the  very  real  of  life. 

Hail !  Hail !  for  whom  the  welcoming  portals  turn ! 

Hail !  Hail !  thou  welcomed  of  the  choiring  host ! 

Hail !  Hail !  Great  Love  attained,  even  Gretchen,  draws 

Attained  Wisdom  to  herself,  while  he 

The  Fiend,  twice-cheated  of  his  demon  end, 

To  Heaven  has  lost  the  plotted  gain  of  Hell. 


45 


TO  BLANCHE 

/|  LET  me  strive,  for  dear  Love's  sake, 
^^    To  touch  thy  heart's  most  hidden  string  ! 
And  music,  hushed  before,  shall  wake 
Obedient  to  my  summoning. 

O  let  me,  sweet,  thine  eyes  explore, 

Or  lose  me  in  their  bluest  deep ! 
Renouncing  freedom  evermore, 

My  soul  doth  crave  such  prison  keep. 

O  let  me,  bending  o'er  thy  head. 
With  ardent  fingers  touch  thy  hair ! 

Or  let  my  eager  palms,  instead, 
Caress  its  wealth,  a  wavy  snare  ! 

O  let  me  press  thy  cheek's  ripe  rose 

A-bloom  beside  the  lily's  white ! 
Because  the  lily  chastely  blows, 

The  other  gives  a  warm  delight. 

O  let  me  dream,  beholding  thee, 
'   Of  bashful  kisses  on  thy  brow  ! 
Or  let  the  waking  rapture  be 

Of  lips  so  near  they  meet  somehow ! 

And  Love,  in  sudden  transport  dumb. 
Needs  not  one  word,  one  tender  phrase, 

To  crown  the  perfect  moment  come, 
Foretelling  all  the  blissful  days. 


46 


THE  TEMPLE  AND  THE  CHRIST 

TT^ROM    His    bright   throne  descending,   as 

-^        from  yon  central  sphere, 

The  long-foretold  fulfilling,  the  Master  shall 
appear. 

His  message,  His  revealing,  the  Truth  where- 
with He  came. 

Whose  inner  word,  withholden,  His  lips  shall 
later  frame. 

The  mortal  birth  transcending,  the  garden  and 

the  cross. 
Doom-shadowed  Rome  behind  Him,  and  all  a 

people's  loss, 
The   Temple   veil    asunder,    the   very   shrine 

profaned, 
The  walls  and  roof  a  ruin,  the  place  thereof 

blood-stained, 

Jerusalem  down-trodden,  the   tribes  dispersed 

afar. 
Proud  Judah's  ancient  glory  a  dead  and  sunken 

star. 
He  bids  a  world-wide  nation  attain  the  higher 

way. 
Arise,  His  later  seeking,  and  greet  the  larger 

day! 

And  hath  He  not  a  temple  upbuilding  through 

all  time? 
Before  historic  ages,  back  in  the  world's  young 

prime. 


47 


or  THE 
IlktlWCTDeiTV 


Its  walls  were  based  on  service,  on  duty  man 
to  man, 

And  love  to  all  beneath  him  in  Love*s  embrac- 
ing plan. 

In  mass  and  strength  and  beauty,  the  lifted  pile 

doth  grow 
With  never  noise  of  shaping,  nor  jar  of  hammer 

blow. 
Bring  not  the  gold  of  Ophar,  not  what  the 

world  doth  count ! 
Bring  not  the  fir,  the  olive,  the  cedar  from  the 

mount ! 

But  bring  yourselves,  O  brothers  !  as  men  before 

have  brought, 
And  bring  that  sacrificing  wherewith  the  builders 

wrought 
Who  fashioned  and  who  fitted  how  oft  with 

martyr's  hand  ! 
And   with  their  blood   cemented   that  so   the 

building  stand. 

Upon  its  daily  growing  Shekinah  pours  His 
light, 

The  Silent  Watcher  looketh  whose  Unit  Ray 
is  white. 

In  turn  the  "Sacred  Seven,*'  their  nightly 
journey  through. 

And  every  distant  Center,  looks  from  the  deep- 
ening blue. 

Hid  in  the  outer  pillars,  the  Temple  records 

bide. 
By  master-workmen  written,  and  fellow-crafts 

beside. 

48 


The  secret  Name  is  blazing  within  an  upper 

room, 
Jerusalem  prepares  her  to  greet  the  heavenly 

Groom. 

Behind   the  Temple   curtain   is   syllabled   the 

Word; 
The  three-fold  veil  is  parting,  and  mysteries  are 

heard 
By  ears  one  day  made  ready,  at  length  by  all ; 

and  then 
The  Truth  is  to  the  nations,  the  brotherhood 

of  men. 


49 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON 

A^/ ITHIN  the  many-mansioned  house  on  high  — 
^  ^       The  Father  visible,  His  table  spread, 

And  all  in  common  —  one  did  choose,  instead, 
The  life  self-love,  the  self-deceived,  would  try, 
The  sapping  pleasures  of  this  world  awry 

In  Truth's  appointed  orbit.     Downward  sped, 
Self-guided  seeker,  now  his  feet  are  led 
Far  as  the  farthest  of  the  lands  which  lie 
Beneath  the  glory  of  the  sleepless  eye. 

Dread  famine  and  the  pinch  of  want  are  there. 

Bankrupt  of  substance  as  the  fruitless  ground, 
Must  he,  the  great  King's  son.  Creation's  heir. 
Self-bound    to    beasts  unclean,   forego  the 

grain. 
And,  with  the  husks  of  Wisdom,  ease  his 
pain. 

Self-parted  from  thy  source  art  thou,  O  son. 
In  whose  own  hand  is  held  the  chastening  rod ! 
Look  up,  companion  of  the  vilest  clod  ! 
Looking,  thine  empty  wandering  is  done 
For  looking  is  the  heart-return  begun. 
Knowest  the  ladder  by  the  angels  trod 
In  bright  ascension  to  the  throne  of  God  ? 
E'en  such  the  lifting  rungs  thy  feet  have  won. 
Seest  the  Father?     Seeing,  ere  thy  sight. 
He  hurries,  bringing,  from  his  open  door, 
Embrace  and  kiss  the  double  pledge  of  yore. 
"These  shoes  thy  strength,   this  robe  thy 

princely  power. 
This  ring,  my  child,  reunion  from  this  hour,  ' 
Come !  feast  on  Wisdom  !  'Tis  thy  heavenly  right." 

50 


THE  MARRIAGE  AT  CANA 

T  Tow  deep  the  wine  of  earthly  passion  stains 
-*-  -■'    Man's  life,  pure-flowing  from  the  heavenly 
spring, 
Till  he,  God's  vessel,  seems  a  common  thing 
More  carnal  grown  with  every  cup  he  drains. 
'Tis  marriage  feast,  but  ah,  its  mid-hour  wanes ! 
"They  have  no  wine"  the  Mother  Mary  spake, 
Whereat  the  Master,  for  the  people's  sake. 
Foreshowing  that  to  which  mankind  attains, 
"  Fill  now  the  vessels  even  to  the  brim  ! " 

"Draw  out  and  serve  the  governor  of  the  feast ! " 
'Tis  passion  purged,  transformed  to  love  by  Him, 
They  drink  at  Cana  even  to  the  least. 
Ah,  rosy  wine,  the  people  thirst  in  vain  ! 
Delayest  yet  until  the  worse  they  drain? 


51 


TRUE  RICHES 

**  Sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and  distribute  unto  the  poor,  and  thou 
shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven:  and  come,  follow  me." 

^TT^HE  dross  of  earthly  nature  men  will  choose 

-■-     Though  heavenly  treasure  wait  at  reach  of  hand. 
The  little  held,  the  larger  grasp  they  lose, 

And  in  the  eye  of  Wisdom  empty  stand. 
"Transmute  thy  wealth  to  what,  outvaluing  dross, 

By  heaven's  divinest  alchemy  is  gold 
Which  given,  thou  in  nothing  knowest  loss 

Since  all  the  heights  repay  thee.     Be  enrolled 
With  those  high,  humble  ones,  those  followers  mine 

Dispensing  substance  and  receiving  power. 
Then  are  the  poor  enriched  and,  law  divine, 

Thyself  acquirest  in  that  mutual  hour. 
Shunning  my  path,  or  in  it  turning  back, 
With  all  thy  having  thou  dost  one  thing  lack." 


52 


i 


LIGHT 

"And  the  light  shineth  in  darkness;  and  the  darkness 
comprehended  it  not." 

OLOVE  !  O  Light !  O  Word-begotten  Sun  ! 
Thou  vibrant  Word  to  orbs  that  in  their  course 
Sound  back  thy  giving  to  its  parent  source 
As  Memnon  singing  at  the  morn  begun, 
Or  Rishi  lifting,  when  the  dark  is  done, 
His  heart-orison  to  the  greater  Heart. 
Is  there  that  loveth  ?     He  in  Love  hath  part ; 
In  Light  he  lives  for  Love  and  Light  are  one. 

Beats  there  a  heart  where  naught  of  Love  abides  ? 
The  fiend,  self-blinded,  o'er  that  night  presides 
Though  Love  stand  knocking,  knocking,  and  should 
say, 
"I  am  in  thee;  thou  art  in  me."     Alas  ! 
Man's  mortal  self  Love-Light  can  never  pass  ! 
That  wall  of  gloom  withstands  the  shining  day. 


53 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS 

THE  oil  of  love  enkindled  in  the  heart, 
They  go,  the  wise  and  foolish,  every  one. 
Since  love  of  self  is  but  love's  poorer  part, 

It  dulls  and  fades  till  fools  are  all  undone. 
Ah,  when  the  Bridegroom  comes,  how  can  they  borrow 

Seeing  the  wise  have  only  what  they  ought? 
'Tis  midnight,  and  no  sign  foretells  the  morrow; 

Hence,  fools,  and  buy  such  oil  as  can  be  bought ! 
Vain  purchase  in  whose  plenty  is  decrease  ! 

Vain  journey,  and  vain  knocking  at  the  door ! 
Folly  doth  enter  never  into  peace ; 

Her  lamps,  renewed,  burn  lurid  as  before. 
When  to  her  heavenly  Groom  the  soul  aspires, 
Love's  purest  oil  must  feed  the  nuptial  fires. 


54 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN 

Tj^ROM  Salem,  city  of  his  soul's  defense, 
-*-       The  holy  city  round  about  his  days, 
One  journeyed  till  the  fiends  of  recompense 

Did  rob  and  rend  him  in  the  dangerous  ways. 
Self-righteousness  in  priestly  garb  passed  by, 

Likewise  the  Levite,  on  the  other  side. 
Holding  it  just  that  broken  there  he  lie. 

They  shewed  no  mercy,  and  its  law  denied. 
From  David's  city  coming  not,  there  came 

One  deemed  a  sinner,  yet  a  man  withal. 

Brother,  whose  human  need  outweigheth  blame  ! 

Thine  ills,  sin  wrought,  I  soothe  and,  lest  thou  fall, 
With  thy  dead  heaviness  my  beast  shall  bend 
Unto  the  refuge  where  thy  soul  shall  mend." 


55 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  VINE 

/^  LIFE,  thou  fruitful  and  eternal  Vine 
^^     Deep-rooted  in  the  heart  of  Mystery ! 

Unnumbered  worlds  are  branches  but  of  thee 
Whose  rightful  vintage  is  the  heavenly  wine, 
The  nectar  nourishing  a  godly  line. 

And  yet,  surpassing  strange  !  thy  yield  can  be 
Mere  emptiness,  or  all  perversity. 
This  known,  the  Master  saith,  "Ye  all  are  Mine, 
Such  branches  being  as  your  wine  shall  prove, 
Or  barren  things  the  which  shall  God  remove. 
Whoso  is  fruitful  purging  maketh  pure : 
Unfruitfulness  in  nowise  can  endure. 
Hateful  in  presence  and  in  very  name. 
Cast  it  to  rubbish  and  consuming  flame !" 


56 


LOVE-WISDOM 

**  Thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and 
hast  revealed  them  unto  babes." 

^'T~^IS  thy  conceit  that  knowledge  guideth  thee 

-*"      To  that  one  place  where  Wisdom  doth  abide, 
Life's  hidden  Heart,  its  central  Mystery. 

Thereto  Love  leadeth,  Love  alone ;  but  pride 
Of  knowledge  doometh  to  the  dark  and  small 

Thy  soul  self-hindered  from  the  shining  sphere. 
So  she,  deluded,  blind,  ignores  the  All ; 

Love-Wisdom  round  about  her,  far  but  near. 
In  that  pure  Love  the  babe  well  typifies, 

That  Wisdom  just  beneath  the  straining  eye 
Of  him  deemed  prudent,  and  the  worldly  wise, 

Is  found  the  seeking  of  the  humble  High. 
Why  search  the  sea  ?     Why  deeply  dig  the  mine  ? 
Thy  wealth  is  gathered  to  that  heart  of  thine. 


57 


THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  LEAVEN 

r\  MIND  !  O  Love  !  O  Life  !  Thou  Father  One ! 

^^    High-ruling  and  down-reaching  only  Power  ! 
Great  God  Triune  who  doth  all  worlds  endower ; 

Even  this  thy  humblest  Mind-born,  Love-born  son ! 

Lo,  when  the  Word  vibrated,  and  'twas  done. 
Thou  leaven  wast,  and,  always,  since  that  hour, 
In  worlds  Thou  hidest,  therefore  shall  they  tower 

Unto  the  kingdom  ere  all  time  has  run. 

O  mind  !  O  love  !  O  life  !  Thou  man  on  earth  ! 
Debased,  debased,  and  yet  a  deathless  thing ! 
The  threefold  enters,  for  thy  leavening, 
Thyself  threefold  as  all  that  gave  thee  birth. 

Far  as  God's  reach,  Himself  shall  leaven  be, 
Lifting  the  creature  from  mortality. 


58 


DIVINE  HEALING 

'*  Heal  the  sick,  cleanse  the  lepers,  raise  the  dead,  cast 
out  devils." 

\  X  ZHEN  Jesus,  Master  of  Compassion,  spake, 
^  ^     Straightway  the  twelve  on  mercy's  mission  went 
Self-seeking  never,  but  with  love-intent. 

Abjuring  self,  for  their  high  calling's  sake, 

That  profit  scorning  which  the  worldly  take. 
Each  so  became  God's  faithful  instrument, 
A  purest  purpose  with  the  God-power  blent 

When  He  the  bonds  of  mortal  pain  did  break. 

If  Jesus  once  again  command  think  ye 
A  mortal  creature  should  exact  the  fee 

God  being  healer  ?     Ah,  what  common  greed  ! 
What  sophistry  !     What  shallow  self-deceit 
That  so  one  gain  that  plenty,  mortal  sweet, 
Unto  the  covetous  heart  a  loss  indeed  ! 


59 


THE  LAST  REVIEW 

May  24,  1865 

T  TNFURLED  to-day  the  flag  of  triumph  waves ; 
^^      For  final  victory  it  floateth  free. 
Teller  of  finished  war;   bright  badge  of  peace; 
Sweet  pledge  of  union,  every  star  restored, 
On  roofs,  the  loftiest,  it  proud  proclaims 
The  loyal  hour  of  celebration  due. 
Ye  hosts  that  bivouaced  by  the  capitol ! 
Armies  of  Georgia  and  the  Tennessee  ! 
Defenders  !  Vindicators  !  Glory  winners 
On  southern  and  on  western  fields  renowned  ! 
Awakened  why  ere  yet  the  bugle  bade .? 
No  powder  scent  was  in  the  early  air. 
The  smoke  has  lifted,  and  the  thunder  sleeps ; 
For  mercy  suing  lies  the  broken  foe, 
And  ye,  as  ready  as  in  war,  forgive. 
Encampers  round  the  city  of  our  pride  ! 
Proved  rank  and  file  of  Sherman*s  doughty  band  ! 
Those  banners  waving  mean  ye  mass  and  march ; 
These  roomy  avenues  await  your  tread. 
Their  eager  multitudes  your  last  review. 

Hark  !  '  tis  the  war-drum's  reminiscent  roll ; 
The  swell  of  brass,  the  cornet's  piercing  call. 
The  trombone's  tune  heroic,  and  the  shout 
Of  fervor  waxing  as  in  view  the  wide 
And  solid  phalanx  moves  majestic  yon. 
With  tread  athletic,  firm,  of  tough  campaigners. 
Draw  near  ye  sun-tanned  !    Show  the  scars  ye  won. 
Proud  battle-marks  by  beauty  never  scorned. 
Show  all  that  tells  the  hero  hailed  of  men, 

60 


Beloved  of  women ;  aye,  the  bravest  brave 
Our  pulses  stirring  and  our  breasts  to-day. 

The  mettled  chargers !    How  they  champ  and  fret, 

Impatient  for  the  guns,  the  cannonade. 

The  tumult  of  the  battle-turning  hour ! 

The  bayonets,  dread  reminders  of  the  charge. 

Shun  now  the  hearts  of  fratricidal  foes. 

Those  proven  swords,  deep-dyed  but  yesterday, 

Flash  naught  of  menace  'neath  the  staring  sun. 

Those  prompting  bugles,  winding  not  the  war. 

In  proud,  commemorative  halls  shall  hang. 

Inflaming  drums  that  urged  the  conquering  van ! 

Retreat  has  whirred  reluctant  in  your  strokes, 

And  oft  your  muffled  throbbing  mourned  the  dead. 

Ye  polished  brazen  tubes  whose  pitiless  mouths 

Have  belched  destruction  through  the  checked  assault ; 

Wheel  on  in  silence  !  Let  your  throats  be  dumb ! 

In  silence  moving,  seek  no  scenes  of  blood 

Ye  gunners  trained  in  all  your  direful  task ! 

Ye  flags  of  battle  never  trailed  in  dust. 

But  onward,  onward,  onward  borne  till  set 

O'er  conquered  ramparts  high  !     With  grief  we  mark, 

With  grief,  each  crimson  stain,  reminder  sole  — 

Save  deathless  fame  —  of  bearers  fallen  !     Now, 

Like  theirs,  your  dedicated  work  is  done ; 

A  nation's  knee  of  homage  bends  indeed 

As  through  your  tatters  mourneth  soft  the  wind. 

Soldiers  immune,  escaped  the  death  of  fields ! 
You  moving  wa!l !     Resistless  avalanche 
That  rolled  with  Sherman  to  the  Georgian  strand  ! 
Ye  thousands,  tens  of  thousands,  tramping  'neath 

61 


The  festal  hangings  of  this  holiday ! 
Better  your  faded  blue,  a  beauty  more 
Than  flowers  the  hand  of  Love  is  flinging;  yea, 
More  royal  seeming  its  dear,  patriot  hue 
Than  purple  splendor  of  the  Tyrian  years. 
With  mein  most  martial,  steady  now  ye  ranks  ! 
Behold,  the  moment  tense,  the  moment  proud. 
The  moment  of  all  moments  cometh  !     There 
He  sits !  your  chief  with  brow  scarce  eased  of  care. 
And  eyes  of  vigil,  thankful  eyes  though  sad 
With  dreaming  down  the  weary  past.     Alas  ! 
From  his  just  place  another  looks  !  another  ! 
Not  his  the  pen  that  signed  the  slave's  release 
Making  yon  ample  and  historic  dome 
The  symbol  of  a  larger  liberty. 

With  Vicksburg  sieged  and  fallen,  in  the  rear, 

And  Chattanooga's  rough  campaigning  done, 

Atlanta  prize  of  war.  Savannah  yours. 

The  Carolina  days  indeed  behind. 

And  all  that  prompts  the  hostile  hand  to  hand, 

Henceforth  behold  in  retrospect  this  seat 

Of  rule  and  centered  power,  the  peopled  ways, 

The  cheering  multitudes,  the  gay  festoons, 

The  banners  flying,  and  the  garlands  flung. 

Leave  now  the  side  by  side  of  comrades  proved 

In  camp  and  bivouac,  victory,  repulse  ! 

Leave  now  the  tall-domed  capitol,  the  chief 

Of  armies,  navies,  him  the  martyred  king  — 

Uncrowned  of  Earth — down-looking  from  the  heavens ! 

All  this  a  memory  grown  of  martial  times, 
Move  on  into  the  civic  walks  of  peace ! 

62 


Its  duties,  trials,  real  and  stern  as  any. 
Shall  discipline  each  day  the  warrior's  heart. 
Move  on  to  all  that  makes  the  citizen ; 
To  all  that  makes  a  happy,  prosperous  nation ! 
Move  on ;  move  on  to  suffer  self-defeat 
Should  e'er  the  soldier  waver  in  your  breast ! 


63 


A  SONQ  OF  LABOR 


'T^HE  Earth  from  her  fullness  of  blessing, 

-*•        predestined  for  man, 
Made  ready  the  prizes  of  labor  ere  Eden  began. 
No   Eden    to   thrive   without   keeping   would 

Wisdom  ordain ; 
No   garden   to   idlers    free-giving   what  labor 

should  gain. 

By  labor  the  body  hath  living,  by  labor  the 

soul 
Whose  Author,  by  labor  unceasing,  preserveth 

the  whole. 
An  earning,   more  sweet  to  his   mouth   than 

unmerited  bread. 
With  sweat  of  his  brow  yet  upon  him,  man 

eateth  instead. 

When  forth  to  the  ground  and  its  tilling,  God 

drave  from  the  gate 
The  fallen    midst  pleasure    and    plenty,   they 

sorrowed  at  fate ; 
Then  strengthened  their  hearts  unto  toil,  unto 

labor  indeed. 
As  yet  must  the  sons  of  far  Adam,  his  laboring 

seed. 

Men  turned  the  thick  sod  of  the  meadow,  nor 

knew  of  the  plow ; 
With  wood  and  with  stone  was  the  digging; 

rude  seemeth  it  now. 


64 


At  length,  for  the  saving  of  sinews,  they  tore 

from  the  hill, 
And  smelted  and  hammered  the  iron,  a  plow 

for  us  still. 

The  bullock  could  draw,  and  the  horse  proved 

a  need-serving  thing ; 
The  ass  and  the  camel  were  bearers,  but  man, 

he  was  king. 
The  paddle  was  plied  on  the  river,  the  sail  and 

the  oar 
Returned,  with  the  weight  of  much  getting,  the 

ship  to  the  shore. 

And  therefore  with  joy  of  possession,  man's  toil 

did  increase; 
High-dreaming    of    labors     unnumbered,     he 

dreamed  without  cease. 
To  dream  and  to  do  was  he  shapen  from  more 

than  the  dust; 
Not  dreaming,  not  doing,  he  dieth  all  eaten  of 

rust. 

Men  builded  them  cities  and  dwellings ;  cour- 
ageous they  wrought ; 

With  stone  and  with  brick  they  engirt  them 
for  this  was  their  thought, 

"  The  others  with  wealth  we  have  gotten  their 
coflFers  would  fill ; 

A  lusting  for  riches  upon  them,  they  plan  but 
our  ill." 

Soon,  soon  came  the  seige  and  the  sacking,  and 
labor  was  lost. 


65 


Defenses  down-battered  to  ruin,  the  toil  and 

the  cost 
Quick-leading  to  smoke  and  to  slaughter,  O 

why  trouble  more ! 
Arise !  'tis  your  birthright  to  labor.     Be  men 

as  before ! 

And  thus,  down  the  ages,  the  ring  of  the  spirits 

clear  cry  ! 
The  spirit  of  Love,  stern  compeller,  drives  low 

unto  high. 
We  think  of  the  place  of  our  fathers,  with  pity 

we  think, 
Though  dwarfish  they  groped  in  a  hollow, 

we  gaze  from  the  brink.*' 

Alas  for  our  pride  !     From  some  peak  the  bold 

climbers  will  say, 
*The  span  of  your   vision  seems  short  unto 

blindness  to-day. 
You  talked  with  the  sea-sundered  nations ;  we 

ask  of  the  stars 
To  teach  us  save  what,  from  their  searching, 

the  Infinite  bars. 

"Weak  wings  for  precarious  flight  took  your 

hazarding  few ; 
We  float  where  the  cloud  floats,  well-shaming 

the  winds  that  pursue. 
We  lift  to  the  soft,  lulling  voyage  when  the 

east  is  unfurled ; 
We  traverse  the  pole,  the  equator,  the  roof  of 

the  world. 


66 


"We  skim  the  wide  regions  of  fruitage  from 

desert  reclaimed 
By  Labor  the  God-serving,  man-serving;  Labor 

the  famed. 
He  ploughs  the  arenas  of  battle ;  he  sows  where 

they  fought 
When  neighbor  would  turn  upon  neighbor  by 

passion  distraught. 

"We  frown  upon  such  as  incline  to  luxurious 

ease, 
The  pampered,   the   proud,  and  the  slothful. 

Our  hive  is  for  bees. 
We  gather  in  one  common  storing,  and  share 

what  we  earn 
That  never  to  rancor  and  envy  the  hearts  of 

us  turn. 

"We  break  not  the  coal  from  the  strata,  the 

Earth's  buried  store, 
A  mine  and  a  use  unto  peoples  who  labored 

of  yore. 
Why  kindle   bituminous  flame,   or  the  wood 

flame  instead. 
While  daily  the  huge  cosmic  dynamo  flames 

overhead  ? 

"The  axman  must  plant  when  he  felleth  the 

good  forest  tree; 
From    creatures    that    raven   and    trouble    its 

shadows  are  free. 
There   roam    our    brute    brothers    unrisen    to 

man's  elder  line, 
Our   kin   through   a  bond,   all-inclusive,    that 

sages  define. 

67 


"How    faithful    the    alchemist,    lighting    his 

crucible  flame ! 
How    faithful    replenishing    ever    though    joy 

never  came ! 
We  prove  him  a  prophet  dispraised,  one  who 

died  without  sight 
Save  that  to  the  prophet  God-granted,  a  glimpse 

of  the  light. 

"Why  groweth  the  seed  to  its  kind  the  good 

reason  we  show ; 
The  seed  that  continues  the  kingdom  of  high 

or  of  low. 
How  kingdoms  would  mix  to  confusion!  but 

Nature  foresaw. 
The  cause  we  expound  of  their  thwarting,  the 

deep-hidden  law. 

"  Prepared  for  our  mightiest  doing,  is  harnessed 

the  sun; 
Behold !  from  the  ultimate  atom  a  marvel  is 

won. 
How  crawled  on  the  highways  the  horseless, 

your  chariot  pride, 
Till  we,  the  great  planet-subduers,  were  ready 

to  ride. 

"Our  ships,   the  unsinkable  sailors  by  storm 

never  veered. 
Are  fearing  the  fury  of  ocean  as  zephyrs  are 

feared. 
We    steer   'neath    the    sweep    of    his    waters 

through  every  zone ; 
We  seek  in  the  midmost  sea  cave  lest  a  thing 

be  unknown." 


68 


"We  live  as  our  fathers  have  lived,  but  we 

double  their  years ; 
The  plagues  of  the  body  we  banish,  the  causes 

of  tears ; 
Our   faith   wholly  merged   in  foreknowledge, 

life's  riddle  we  know; 
Let    dust    be    our    doom,    we    despair    not; 

undying  we  go.'* 

The  Earth  with  her  fullness  of  blessing,  pre- 
destined for  man. 

Made  ready  the  prizes  of  labor  ere  Eden 
began ; 

And  on  to  the  latest  high  glory  her  tribes  shall 
attain. 

The  children  of  men  will  be  telling  what  labor 
doth  gain. 


69 


KING  EDWARD 

'Tr^HE  Earth  has  passed  her  morning  time, 
-*-        The  fever  of  her  youth  abates, 

A  calm  is  coming  to  her  prime ; 
God  speed  the  promise  man  awaits  ! 

The  Earth  grows  wiser  till  the  flame 

Of  kindled  and  rekindled  strife 
To  her  is  hateful,  and  war's  name 

Is  coupled  with  the  savage  life. 

She  calls  her  chiefest,  as  of  old, 

But  bids  them,  choosing,  shun  the  sword. 
She  half  disdains  the  warrior  mould 

Where  men  were  shapen  at  her  word. 

The  crowned  is  but  her  steward  high 
On  whom  may  royal  wisdom  wait 

That,  looming  in  the  public  eye. 
He  merit  blessing  more  than  hate ! 

Loved  King ;  once  filling  empire's  throne  ! 

The  olive  to  thy  heart  was  dear ; 
For  thee  a  people  make  their  moan, 

And  drops  the  universal  tear. 

The  realms  abroad,  and  every  isle. 
Have  known  a  reign  so  mild  and  just 

That  sovereign  Edward  seemed,  the  while, 
A  servant  faithful  to  his  trust. 

His  brief  and  busy  rule  is  done ; 

How  swift  his  orb  !  we  sadly  say ; 
But  deeds,  well  ended  as  begun. 

Were  more  the  measure  of  his  day. 

70 


To  smooth  all  differings  ere  the  stroke 
That  leads  to  many,  was  his  gift ; 

To  quench  disaster  ere  the  smoke 

That  spreads  alarm,  could  skyward  lift. 

From  Dover  cliff  to  Calais  shore 
Fly  auguries  of  war's  decrease 

And  Agincourt,  and  Crecy's  roar, 

Have  sunk  to  wooing  words  of  peace. 

No  more  those  jealousies,  accursed, 
Which  shook  Sebastopol,  return ; 

Of  hate  no  more  such  hot  outburst 
To  Europe's  very  heart  shall  burn, 

For  he,  who  did  no  gauntlet  fling. 
Would  have  the  nations  nearer  one. 

He  showed  the  purpose  of  a  king 
As  should  Victoria's  royal  son. 

A  man,  and  then  a  monarch,  he, 
Requiring  all  of  deference  due. 

Craved  naught  for  Edward ;  place  must  be 
That  worthy  mountain,  well  in  view, 

Where  England's  glory  gilds  the  crest, 
And  Australasia  pours  her  light. 

And  Canada's  high  star  doth  rest, 
And  India's  beam  is  orient  bright. 

Though  war  lords  prate  of  right  divine, 
The  people  did  through  Edward  rule. 

Who  vaunts  the  privilege  of  line 
Doth  babble  even  as  the  fool. 


71 


The  praise  of  kings  our  land  has  heard 
Though  kingless  save  as  God  doth  crown, 

But  *'  brother  '*  was  a  binding  word 
Ere  kings  had  gotten  their  renown. 

We  greeted  once  the  generous  youth ; 

The  prince  unto  our  hearts  came  nigh ; 
We  mourn  the  king,  but  ah,  in  truth. 

The  all-death-sundered  brother  tie. 

O'er  Britain  may  no  cloud  be  drawn 
Save  that  of  sorrow  for  her  head ! 

That  cloud  shall  brighten  as  the  morn 
For  lo,  he  joins  the  risen  dead  ! 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

Of 


Td    ^^04^7 


'(ixr\%\iyr. 


20321:; 


